


Lie Down Next to Me

by unveiled



Series: Snippets [14]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Class Differences, Football | Soccer, Future Fic, Growing Old Together, M/M, Roses, Strategy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveiled/pseuds/unveiled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles watch the Euro 2012 final together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie Down Next to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocks/gifts).



> Written for Clocks' prompt and originally posted to [Tumblr](http://thoughtsnotunveiled.tumblr.com/post/29091632802/lie-down-next-to-me), with the title taken from Dido's [Take My Hand](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUwJKIJyYY0). Canon-compliant for XMFC, but not the original X-trilogy.

Charles dropped his shears with a jolt, nearly making a ruin out of the roses he'd been meticulously cutting. He looked down at the basket, counting the blooms: three Peace roses and their soft yellow-pink blush, a vividly red Mister Lincoln, two lavender Angel Face, and a bright yellow Sunsprite. Wanda would be pleased enough by them at dinner, he thought. He never quite dared to ask what she did to the garden as a housewarming gift when they moved in decades ago, learning to savour the fruit of her labours without inconvenient questions.

Literally, as it happened: Erik's tomatoes were the envy of their visitors, even though Charles was mildly concerned at the plants' extraordinary capacity for world domination.

He lifted the basket to his lap and wheeled into the house, pausing to hang his sunhat on a hook and place the flowers in a vase. Erik's emotions continued to spike and ebb as Charles washed his hands, and he eavesdropped shamelessly on Erik's thoughts, the bright images on the TV screen seen through Erik's eyes.

Charles bit down on a laugh as he entered Erik's study to see his husband sitting tense-backed on the sofa before the TV, a forgotten bowl of half-podded peas balanced on his lap.

"I forget how much of a football hooligan you are," Charles said mildly, as he transferred himself from his wheelchair to the sofa. "Until you spend an entire month putting down roots in front of the television."

The corners of Erik's mouth curled up in the tiniest of smiles. "Hooligan, Charles? How very upper middle class of you, rugby snob."

Charles stole a handful of fresh peas from Erik's bowl, staring politely at the screen. "Who are the teams?"

"Spain versus Italy." They watched as a very fit young man threw himself at the ball, safely claiming it away from goal. "Good match, but Spain will prevail."

"I know nothing about football, you realise."

Erik heaved an aggrieved sigh, but his thoughts were fond. "Spain smothers its enemies through absolute mastery of the game: they give no space for the other team to regain control of the ball. They are forced into having to outplay Spain at its own game — an impossibility. It's impressive."

Charles didn't miss the fact that Erik used "enemies", which was par for course, truly. He chewed slowly on the peas, taking note of the movements and the passing of the ball on the pitch.

"What you're saying is, essentially, that Spain plays the way you wished the Brotherhood had operated," Charles said thoughtfully.

A moment crackled in silence.

"Is it really a good idea to be reminding me of these things, Charles?" Erik said, grave and dignified in a way that told Charles he'd scored a hit, a palpable hit.

"You're ninety years old." Charles leaned over to kiss Erik's shoulder and took the bowl away, taking over podding duty. "I'll take my chances."


End file.
